


Día de los Muertos

by placentalmammal



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Female Character of Color, Fluff, Gen, Mexican Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raul and the Courier celebrate Día de Muertos after her return from Zion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Día de los Muertos

At Veronica's insistence, the suite had been decorated for Halloween. The scribe had found pre-war decorations in the back room of an old Five-and-Dime: cardboard cutouts of ghosts witches, orange-and-black tinsel, a battered plastic skeleton. She'd pinned them up throughout the suite, giving the skeleton a place of honor on the dining room table. Lupe was gone on some errand in Zion, and no one else cared enough to tell her 'no,' so she decorated with childlike-glee, even talked Lily into making candied "apples" with mutfruit and molasses.

Privately, Raul rolled his eyes. Before she found the decorations, she'd found a Pre-War children's book about holidays, and she'd been entranced by the idea of Halloween. The others, Arcade and Boone and Cass and even Lily remembered celebrating Halloween or some version of it, but Veronica had never heard of it before crawling out of her hole in the ground.

"The Brotherhood has no time for fun," she'd said, dropping her pitch several registers to imitate some unknown Elder. "Steel be with you."

So they all indulged her fantasy and helped her carry the moldering decorations back to the suite and find thumbtacks to put them up. It was almost festive.

Lupe came back on October 31st, toting an overfull knapsack and dressed in unfamiliar clothes. There were heavy bags under her eyes, a definite slump in her shoulders. She'd been gone three weeks but she looked ten years older. Raul was alone in the suite, sitting in his favorite chair in the den when the elevator dinged to announce her arrival. He glanced up in acknowledgment of the newcomer, realized who it was, and got to his feet, knees creaking in protest.

"We were starting to think you'd died," he said at the same time she said "It's good to see you."

He stopped in the doorway, cleared his throat. "How was Zion?"

She sighed, running her hands through her short hair. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm here if you change your mind."

"I won't, I meant what I said. I don't want to talk about it." For a moment, neither spoke, and then she smiled. "I got something to show you," she said. "Come on."

He followed her into the dining room. She stopped short, grimacing at the decorations. "What the hell is this shit?" she said loudly, voice echoing in the still room. She crossed the room and pulled a garland off the wall, staring at it as though it were a snake.

"Veronica," Raul said, by way of explanation.

Lupe sighed. "Just get that damned skeleton off the table." She pulled the rest of the the tinsel off the wall and dumped it unceremoniously into the wastebin. The witches and ghosts were next, and then Raul moved the skeleton off the table while Lupe unpacked her knapsack. When he turned around, Lupe was arranging mismatched candles on the emptied table, a look of intense concentration on her face.

Satisfied with las velas, Lupe pulled a lumpy, newspaper-wrapped package out of her bag. She set it delicately on the counter and cut the strings with her pocketknife, revealing a bouquet of battered orange and yellow marigolds.

"Where did you--" he breathed.

"Some kid was selling them on a street corner in Freeside," she said happily. "Ofrendas--"

"Por los muertos," he finished. "I didn't think anyone remembered."

"Some things, you don't forget," she said. She split the flowers into smaller bunches and dumped them in glasses of tepid tap water. Raul took los vasos from her and set them on the table beside the candles, trying to remember how his mother had arranged the family altars when he was a boy. She'd set out painted calaveras and food as well. Raul didn't think there was anywhere in the Wasteland to buy sugar skulls and Lupe wasn't so wealthy that she could justify setting food out for the dead, even if it was traditional.

She joined him at the table and set a black, leather-bound book and a stuffed bear amid the las velas y las flores. The book was a fine old Bible, title stamped in gold script across the front cover. The bear was dirty and worn, with chewed-on ears and a missing arm. It looked as though it had been rescued from dogs, and knowing Lupe, it might have been.

"Muy linda, Lupita," he said, lapsing into Spanish as he often did when they were alone. "¿Quien ese para?"

Lupe was silent for a moment, pulling a matchbook from her pocket and lighting the candles. "Mi madre," she said, emotionlessly. "Y mi hermanita."

"Ay, mija," he said.

"It's been a long time," she said, returning to English. "Mami beat me and Rosalita was only a baby. No sense in mourning." Her indifferent tone concealed a sob, and Raul took the matches from her and pulled her into an embrace.

"Tranquilo, tranquilo," he said, rubbing her back. "Ese no es un día para llorando, Lupita."

"Ya sé," she said. She dragged a close fist across her face, roughly drying her tears. "Ya sé."

"It's always going to hurt," he said kindly, taking her hands in his. "But you have to be strong. Do it for yourself, mija."

She nodded, and her sobs subsided into hiccups. "Lo siento," she mumbled.

"You've got nothing to apologize for. At least not until Veronica gets home and sees what you've done to her decorations."

Lupe laughed, and the sound was as clear and joyful as church bells on Easter.


End file.
